


Lost in the Wind

by EllBoots



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllBoots/pseuds/EllBoots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene from the end of Season 8 about Wash's thought processes and stuff. At the moment it's just a one-shot at the moment but I might carry on if inspiration strikes, in which case i'll update the tags and the summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while since I posted anything but I really wanted to write how I think this scene went down. Hope you like!

“Quick, put Church’s armour on.”

“What?”

Tucker tilted his helmet in a way that suggested an emphatic eye roll in Wash’s direction. The Red soldiers were a way away, tending to their wounds and seeing if any of the vehicles in the snow bank were still usable. Caboose was crouched next to the Epsilon unit and, having violently shooed Tucker away with repeated intonations of “You’ll just mess it up,” was now talking animatedly and slightly desperately to the dead object.  

“Are you fucking deaf, as well as crazy? Put Church’s armour on.” Tucker gestured again to the empty armour he had dragged over to where Wash had been leaning against the rock face.

“But… why?” Wash’s voice and mind were heavy with suspicion, at this point he was managing to make himself happy with just still being alive, but was resigned to being thrown back into prison for the rest of his days. Epsilon had been his last hope, but the Meta had taken that from him. Now, he was bloody and beaten, his HUD flashing up numerous wounds around his body. His melodramatic side briefly thought maybe it would be better if he let himself die from the wounds, instead of waiting around for the military to arrest him. Again. The pain was making him woozy, memory and present day blurring together. He tried to use the freezing snow around his feet to ground himself, dimly registering that the automatic heating in his armour was broken, along with several other systems according to his glitched HUD. The quick flash of a blonde woman, laughing before she was shipped away for the final time, made Wash snap out of his reverie, hurriedly pushing the false memory to the back of his mind.

“Dude, the cops are on their way already, if they find you here they’re going to send you to prison, right?” Tucker said, his tone of voice suggesting that he might be regretting his offer.

“Well, yes, but—“

“ _So_ , you put on Church’s empty armour, pose as him, leave your armour here and they’ll think you’re dead, and you’re off the hook,” Tucker rattled off, like it was obvious, “Right?” he added, shuffling uncomfortably.

“That—“ Wash began, trying to wrap his head around the idea and coming to the shocking conclusion that it might actually work, “But why?” he repeated, trying to force himself to focus.

“Um, so you don’t go to prison? But, y’know, if you’re looking forward to that shit please don’t let me stop you.” he said, waving his hand in a way that told Wash to do as he damn well pleased.

“No but, why are you helping me?” Wash clarified, confusion ringing through his head.

“Uhh, well I still don’t really know what’s happening, but Caboose was explaining that you came to help the guys, and then you were a bad guy, but, uh—“ Tucker stuttered, trying to decipher Caboose’s explanation into a narrative that would actually make sense, “But it was like you weren’t actually a bad guy, the military had just screwed you over, like they did us,” he rubbed the back of his helmet, a force of nervous habit, “So if you’re not really a bad guy, and you were trying to help us in the first place, then we should probably help you. Or something. Also Caboose begged me for a ‘new Church’ so.”

Wash could barely understand what he was hearing, and not just because it was coming second hand from Caboose. Why these people would ever want to help him after what he had done to them he couldn’t conceive, but the glimmer of hope that had settled in his chest couldn’t be ignored. He struggled to find a non-emotional reason to accept the offer, striving for logic, rather than insubstantial _hope_. The frantic, rapid blinking of his HUD gave his mind the excuse it needed: undamaged armour was much more likely to keep him alive, at least long enough to properly care for his wounds out of the snow. With a dizzying lurch, he rose to his feet, using the rock face as support.

“Okay,” he managed to grind out, quashing the nausea in his throat, “… Thank you, Tucker.” he mumbled, raising shaking hands to unclip his helmet.

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll go tell Caboose.” Tucker immediately sauntered away, leaving Wash to wincingly move out of his bust up armour and into Church’s, blessedly functional.

Though the process was hard, once Wash clipped on the light blue helmet and took a deep breath, it felt almost like being reborn. Not only because the inbuilt systems immediately warmed up his body and soothed his injuries, but because of the anonymity it brought. The shackles of Agent Washington were temporarily broken, leaving a new man. He could be anything he wanted, as long as it was under the name of Church. His pessimistic nature soon took over, reminding him that these soldiers could still betray him at any time. Settling into the borrowed armour, its effects grew, soothing both Washington’s beaten body and tired brain.

He had just gone to join the others, Tucker having finally driven Caboose away from the capture unit, when the pelicans rose over the horizon. There was a flash of panic, the sudden desire to abandon the troops and get as far as he could away from there, take his chances on the run. This thought was hastily quelled, and Wash uneasily stomached the sight of the approaching pelicans, and eventually gathered the courage to join the others in telling their tale. When they were praised for the murder of not one, but two Freelancers, Wash found himself surprisingly close to laughter. He couldn’t help but interject, feeling giddy on the high of being “dead.”  

And as they watched the snowscape rapidly fall away behind them, various irate military personnel shouting abuse at them from down below, Washington gave in and laughed like he hadn’t in years. It was swept away with the wind, which, on second thought, he was glad for. Tucker was piloting, but his mind, briefly elated by their escape, had fallen back to Church, his body mindlessly following the Red’s pelican away. Caboose, on the other side of the pelican, had been worryingly quiet since Tucker had, surprisingly softly, explained to him the Church was, for all intents and purposes, dead. _Yes, Caboose, again. No, he’s not coming back this time. I’m sorry buddy._ Wash’s glee felt unwelcome in the solemn atmosphere created by men who had lost a friend and leader, so he kept it within his new armour, and out on his side of the flight, straight out into the wind to be lost somewhere far away.

Looking back, that may have been the moment that Wash resolved to help them. To stick with the soldiers who had risked so much for him, so soon after him working against them. They had lost a leader and friend, and yet still focussed on getting him out of the shitty situation he had found himself in. Wash knew then, even if he didn’t realise it, that he had to help them, to protect them, because even with the Meta and Texas and Epsilon gone, there was still danger abounding. The Director was still around, along with Freelancer technology, which was now god knows where since the Director had locked himself away. Even without the ever-present threat of Project Freelancer, the Reds and Blues were still faced with danger from many other sources, and Washington felt honour-bound to help them through whatever may come next.

But for now, his mind was in the wind.


End file.
